Death by Chocolate
by C.A. Elenath
Summary: Never ever make a bet with Z Delgado.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: _I own nothin' but the insanity. _

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By the hundred and seventy-second spoonful, Triple Brownie Chunk Fudge Truffle Explosion looked, smelled, and tasted like the mud swamp. He would rather have shoveled the mud swamp down his throat, in fact, than this enormous tub of sugar, fat, and artificial flavoring. At least he didn't know what whatever was in the mud swamp could do to him.

Such had been the terms of the bet he'd made with Z. If she lost, she had to run the entire mud course, forwards and backwards. If he lost, he had to consume an entire gallon (plus a quart! He should have asked for specifics when she said a 'standard sized bucket') of insanely chocolate-laden ice cream within a half hour. Leave it to the sassy Yellow Ranger to think of something as creatively gruesome for him to suffer as gluttony. She had to have had some help though; Syd or Bridge must have mentioned to her sometime that he was something of a health nut. It was the only way she could know that for him, a tub of ice cream would be torture rather than heaven.

Sky took a very slow, very cautious deep breath for fear that what he'd ingested so far might decide to come sneaking back up. His torment was almost over; there was only a small mound of dessert left in the plastic drum. With the same dogged stubbornness that sometimes got him through tough battles but more often just got him in trouble, he dug in his spoon and forced himself to take a few more bites. He couldn't keep a grimace off his face each time he swallowed. His stomach made a disturbing gurgling noise. The half-melted, drooping brown slop sudden threatened to make him sick on the spot.

He looked away.

Z sat on the couch across from him, casually thumbing through a magazine that rested in her lap. She was smirking like there was no tomorrow.

"Seven minutes," she said in a cool, off-handed manner, but she might as well have been crowing in delight.

He wondered if regurgitation was within the terms of the bet. He didn't _want_ to do it, but the last bit of ice cream just wasn't going away, and for one miserable moment, he wasn't even sure if he could help himself.

Thankfully the nausea passed, but it had been such a close call that he knew he had to end this _now_ before he felt ill again. He scooped up the entire remains of the dessert, took another deep breath to brace himself, and shoved it all into his mouth. Swallowing had never been so labor-intensive.

Unfortunately—not that he didn't realize by now—his suffering didn't end with the last of the ice cream. The spoon dropped from his hand into the bucket with a noisy clatter, and he tipped over onto the couch, holding his stomach with one hand while the other flopped to the floor. His face was the picture of misery as he mentally swore off food for the next two months.

Meanwhile, Z was getting no small amount of satisfaction from his pain. It felt indescribably good to knock Sky Tate down a peg, to trap him with his own superiority complex. This would teach him not to challenge Z Delgado.

Yet, after seeing how this bet panned out, she kind of hoped he would. How nice it would be if all bets ended with Sky passed out on a couch, covered with dozens of little chocolate stains.

She watched him for several minutes before realizing that he really was asleep. His expression had become more peaceful without his eyebrows crossed in their eternal scowl. Her smirk softened into a smile.

She went into the bathroom and wet a handful of paper towels, bringing them out into the rec room. First she tried to wake Sky up but to no avail. After a hesitant pause, she took one of the towels and cautiously wiped a smudge of chocolate from his cheek.

He didn't stir. She wiped another smudge from his chin, but found that the thin brown line that had dried on his upper lip was more stubborn. She decided to leave it for now.

Moving down, she mopped the chocolate residues from his fingers before they could leave their sticky imprint on anything else potentially clean. His arm fell back to the floor rather bonelessly when she let go of his hand. Bridge had told her once that Sky was a really light sleeper. He must really have been in a serious state of narcosis then if he wasn't reacting the tiniest bit to her ministrations.

She moved to kneel beside his head again. With a fresh paper towel, she gently cleansed the rest of his face, not because there were any more chocolate stains to remove, but because she wanted to feel the shape of it beneath her fingers. He had very nice skin, smooth and soft, nicer than anyone as crusty and egotistical as he was deserved to have. She started on his forehead, skimmed his temple and traced his cheekbone, slid over to his earlobe, then followed his jawline down to the tip of his chin. She repeated this caress on the other side of his face, intrigued by the sensations her fingertips were sending through the rest of her. She lifted the towel and slid it down a nose she'd always found awkwardly sharp.

She paused on the curve of his upper lip. That line of dried chocolate was still there. She knew of one way to get rid of it, but did she dare? Did she want to find out just how deeply asleep he might not have been?

Z Delgado had led a hard life, and she was used to defending herself, physically and emotionally, and fighting for the things she needed or wanted. In the end, few things scared her, and after a very brief moment of deliberation, she found this was no exception. See, assess, steal.

She bent down and lightly touched her lips to his, which still tasted strongly of chocolate. She moved to one corner of his mouth and kissed her way to the other, handily removing all traces of the confection with a little help from the tip of her tongue. At one point, she thought she felt him kiss her back, but the movement was so subtle, it might have been just a muscle twitch, some tiny automatic response to the stimulus of her lips. After all, the man was practically comatose.

She returned to the bathroom to toss away the paper towels, and when she returned, Syd was there, staring at Sky's sprawled out form.

"What did you do?" the Pink Ranger asked in a laughter-choked whisper, blue eyes bright with mirth.

"He lost our bet," said Z coolly. When Syd raised her eyebrow at the empty ice cream tub, Z grinned devilishly. "You shouldn't have told me he abhors junk food."

"Z, he's lactose intolerant!"

She could only blink at this revelation, and Syd pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles. "The poor guy is going to be in the bathroom for hours!"

"Wow. That's even better than I could have ever hoped for."

Syd just started giggling harder. "You better hope we don't get any attacks in the next…how long has he been out?"

"Ten minutes? Fifteen?"

"Next few hours then, maybe. Should we—are you just going to leave him here?"

"Actually, I might sit and watch him for a while."

Syd passed her a knowing smirk. "Making sure he doesn't hurt himself while he's out _cold_?"

Z rolled her eyes at her roommate. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Lip gloss," said Syd with a laugh. She went into their room to retrieve the said item, and with another smirk at Z, she left the rec room.

Z returned to her couch with her magazine though there were a couple other things she would have preferred to be doing. They were things that would inevitably be more fun if Sky was awake. So she waited. Waited for a few more challenges she looked forward to winning. Or rather, that she looked forward to winning over.

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**Author's Note:** _One-shot, guys. This fic came from some silly musings I had with a friend about ice cream and Sky. There is no plot that surrounds this scene, I have no idea what's going with Z/Sky, and before anyone asks—NO, I don't know what the bet was that Z and Sky made with each other. :-)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **_The insanity's still mine._

**Author's Note: **_I'd forgotten about this little jewel for a long time now. I think I wrote it while still in the same weird mood that caused me to write the first chapter, but I wasn't sure how people would react to this semi-serious, semi-funny blend. :)_

_- -_

"I didn't take Sky to be the type to sunbathe."

Syd jumped at the sound of Z's voice, and quickly turned around to shush her. "How did you find this place?" she demanded in a whisper.

"Easy. I followed you," Z gave the Pink Ranger a weird look. "So what is 'this place'? Your secret rendezvous spot?"

"_No_. This is where Sky goes when he wants to be alone. He doesn't know that Bridge and I know about it."

"Is what why you're spying on him through the bushes?"

"Yeah. I want to go and make sure he's okay, but then he'd know we know about this place. I—I think he'd be upset."

They were in the thicket that grew along the southeast border of the training fields, on the edge of a clearing that was well hidden by but not too deep into the trees. It was a wonderfully secluded spot, lit by sunlight in the center where the canopy of the surrounding trees couldn't reach. In this patch of light lay the Blue Ranger, stretched out on his back with his arms laid straight out on either side. His eyes were closed and his expression was that of someone deep in concentration. He was dressed in full uniform.

"How did you guys find out about it?" asked Z.

"Same way you did. Bridge followed him one night, and then he told me about it."

"Way to keep a secret."

"We had to do it!" said Syd defensively. "We didn't know anything about him, but we were expected to work with him as a team. Our promotions depended on it. Besides, when a guy is as interactive as a brick wall, it's hard _not_ to sneak around behind his back."

The Yellow Ranger started to nod, but suddenly ducked her head, and pulled Syd down with her as well. "Shhh! He's awake!" She had seen Sky's head turn on its side, his sharp green eyes scanning the woods like a hawk. The two female Rangers continued to watch him through their leafy screen, becoming still as statues when his gaze fell right on the spot where they were hiding.

"That was close," whispered Z after he finally looked away.

"_What_ is he doing?"

The Blue Ranger had his eyes closed again, and his chest rose and fell with one very long, slow breath. A dome of translucent blue rose up over him and immediately popped, like a soap bubble. Syd and Z jumped in surprise. Sky's forearms were glowing blue.

"Practicing his forcefields?" suggested Z as they watched another blue bubble form and disperse.

"I have never seen him do anything like that before," Syd whispered back. "He looks like he's…_photosynthesizing_ or something. You know, like those little fish in the ocean."

Z gave her a completely blank look, but a new voice behind them offered, "I think what you mean is he's _bioluminescent_. That's what those little fish in the ocean do; they give off their own light. I had no idea that you—"

Syd clamped a hand over the chatty Green Ranger's mouth. "Ssssh! You're going to get us all caught!"

When he was allowed to speak again, he gave Z a curious look. "We weren't supposed to tell anyone," he whispered a bit nervously with a sideways glance at Syd.

"I followed her," explained Z, sounding not at all guilty for it.

"Yeah." Syd shot her an annoyed but resigned look.

The three peered into the clearing again, watching with fascination as more blue translucent domes appeared and dissipated at irregular intervals. They varied greatly in size; sometimes nothing more happened than his forearms flaring blue for a moment.

"You think this has anything to do with that tub of torture you forced down his throat?" Syd mused aloud.

Z was about to retort but Bridge interjected first with a confused, "What?"

"Z made Sky eat an entire gallon of ice cream because he lost a bet."

Bridge looked horrified. "Z, he's lactose intolerant!"

Z, who had been trying to get a word in during their exchange, rolled her eyes. "That's exactly what Syd said. And for your information, I didn't force him to do anything. He had every opportunity to tell me that my terms for the bet would make him sick, but he didn't. He probably wouldn't say anything even if ice cream could kill him, the proud jerk."

Syd immediately opened her mouth to defend the Blue Ranger, but no sound came out. After a silent pause, Bridge conceded, "She's got a point."

Syd looked ready to argue for all of another second, and then she too conceded with a reluctant nod.

"What is this, a secret meeting of the forest Rangers now?"

Three pairs of hands grabbed Jack and pulled him to the ground, their owners shushing him urgently. When they finally let him go, he straightened his jacket a little and gave them all a look like they'd grown an extra head each. Z put a finger to her lips pointedly and then directed him in the quietest whisper, "Look through there."

Jack still looked like he thought they'd all gone bats, but he reluctantly crawled forward and peered through the foliage. He watched for several minutes before drawing back.

"Interesting," was all he could say.

"Any guesses on what he might be doing?" asked Syd.

Jack shrugged. "If he ran all the way out here to do it, I'm guessing he needed to blow off some steam without killing anybody." He thought back to that one time he had the pleasure of running into one of Sky's shields. "Those forcefields aren't something to play around with."

"We've never seen him do anything like this before," said Syd, and with a sly look at Z that Jack didn't miss, "But then again, he's never eaten himself sick before."

At Jack's raised eyebrow, Z explained rather exasperatedly, "He lost that bet he made with me, so he had to finish one of those gallon buckets of ice cream. And he just _happens_ to be lactose intolerant, which he never deigned to tell me himself."

"Would you have let up even if he told you?"

"Yes," she replied to the ground dubiously.

"Uh, guys?"

Three heads turned to look at Bridge, but he merely pointed behind them repeatedly with wide eyes. They swiveled their gazes around and took on a similar look when they saw the very large, translucent blue wall that was rapidly encroaching upon them. It was a part of a massive dome that was already pushing against the edges of the clearing, its apex as high as the treetops.

"Time to go." Jack was the first on his feet.

The four Rangers went tearing out of the thicket, not stopping even when they glanced back and realized the dome wasn't expanding beyond the borders of the clearing.

"You think he heard us?" asked Syd after they came to a halt on the track that circled the training field.

"I wouldn't be surprised. You three weren't exactly quiet as mice when I showed up," said Jack. "I didn't know he could do that. Did you?" The others shook their heads. "It'd be a handy trick in a fight."

"It takes energy, a lot of energy." Bridge had that thoughtful tone in his voice that meant his brain was firmly latched onto some new idea. "Energy he normally wouldn't have. What happens when a lactose intolerant person eats lactose?"

The other three Rangers didn't answer right away, uncertain of whether the Green Ranger was just musing aloud or actually asking them.

"He feels sick?" Syd answered hesitantly.

"Stomachache?" Z offered.

"And…the runs." Syd wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Can we stop talking about this now?"

"They have gas," replied Jack, very matter-of-factly. "Causes the stomachaches, the queasiness, and…yeah, sometimes it gives you the runs." When the others blinked at him in surprise, he added, "I had a younger cousin who was lactose intolerant, which he found out the hard way. Where are you going with this, Bridge?"

"It's something Sky explained to me once," he replied. "We were talking about when people, uh, when they pass wind—"

"When they fart," corrected Jack.

"He was trying to be polite, Jack."

"And I'm being to point. Besides, how polite can it be when it's about flatulence?"

Syd turned up her nose. "Boys. If it's not about girls' breasts or butts, it's about inappropriate bodily noises."

"Hey, I wasn't the one sitting around talking to my roommate about people farting."

"People do it because their bodies have to release that gas," Bridge went on hurriedly in explanation. "Our metabolism can't do anything else with it. Sky explained to me that his body can burn things other than just food as fuel for his forcefields, things that other people can't burn. Things like—"

"Gas," said Jack.

Bridge nodded. "He doesn't release it; he burns it to make forcefields. And since he did just eat a very large amount of lactose…"

"Are you telling me," Jack was having a very tough time maintaining a straight face, "that with those forcefields of his, he is, in his own way, farting out in the middle of the woods?"

"Silent but deadly?" Bridge cracked, and the four of them doubled over helplessly.

- -

**Author's Comment: **_Yes people. I wrote a very elongated fart joke. But personally, I don't think this was nearly as clever as chapter one. Just weirder._


End file.
